Resol'nare
by Vhetin1138
Summary: A Star Wars: White Snow mini-series. Bounty hunter Cin Vhetin and his sister Janada Bralor are asked to teach a group of young Mandalorians about their culture.
1. Chapter 1

_Resol'nare: _a Star Wars: White Snow mini-series

Chapter 1: _Bajur_

Vhetin stood alone in the hall, tapping one foot impatiently. His arms were folded across his armored chest as he slowly cycled through various HoloNet reports on his HUD. He narrowed his eyes as he read, thinking, _Where the hell is she?_

It seemed like an eternity before the woman he was waiting for strode into sight from around a corner. She spotted him and smiled, quickening her pace to meet him. Unlike him, she wasn't wearing armor. Instead, she had opted for a brown nerf-hide jacket and work pants.

"What took you so long?" he asked as he embraced her in greeting. "I was worried I'd have to do this all on my own."

"Come on, Cin," she replied, brushing a strand of black hair out of her eyes, "have I ever let you down?"

"On multiple occasions."

"But never when you actually needed my help. Only when you were acting like a _nu'gettse _wuss. Like that time you needed my advice on how to ask Brianna out on a date all those years ago? You needed to learn how to do that yourself, 'cause only brainless _di'kute _act like you were at the time."

"Better watch that mouth," Vhetin said quietly.

She laughed. "Or what? You gonna stop me, Stripes?"

"No," he replied, "but I don't think the man who picked us for this job would be very pleased at your choice of language, considering our audience."

She frowned. "Hmm... good point. I'll have to pull back a bit."

"You do that," he said with a slight smile.

As they set off down the hall together, they engaged in some small conversation. Vhetin asked her how her job at MandalMotors was working, how her boyfriend Verdo was doing. The woman, in turn, asked him how Brianna was and how his recent hunting contracts had played out. After a few minutes, they were standing outside the old, twisted wooden door with a rough sign that read _ROOM 38._

"You ready?" she asked him. When he nodded, she reached out a hand and knocked three quick raps against the door.

There was silence for a moment before a muffled voice within said, "Who could that be? Do you think it's our guests?"

There was a quiet mumbling in response. A few moments later, the door opened and a man in dull yellow armor motioned them in with a smile.

"Say hello, class," he said as he turned to the room's occupants: children. Vhetin looked through them as he stepped into the room, noting that these were young students, human and otherwise, no older than five or six. They were gathered into a rough half-circle, sitting cross-legged on the stringy carpet floor.

"Hello," the children obediently said. They looked excited to have a break from the usual routine and to have newcomers in their midst.

"Class," the man in yellow armor said as he strode to the front of the class, "I want you to meet Janada Bralor and her younger brother, Cin Vhetin. They're here to teach you for the next couple hours."

Janada waved to the class with a smile while Vhetin, still wearing his full battle helmet, nodded in greeting. He wasn't the ringleader here. Janada was taking the lead on this lecture and he was just here to pitch in where he could.

She stepped forward and clapped her hands together. "So," she said, "I think I recognize this class. Especially you, _ad'ika_."

She pointed out one of her youngest brothers, who was attending the class, and smiled warmly. The child beamed at such attention.

"So," Janada said, "who knows why my _vod'ika_ and I are here?"

A multitude of hands shot up. Janada called on one student at random and the child recited, "You're here to teach us about the _Resol'nare_."

"Right," she said, "and who here knows what the _Resol'nare_ are?"

Another hand shot up and a kid said, "The _Resol'nare_ are the Six Actions central to life as a _Mando'ad_."

"Good. And where did you hear that?"

The child blinked and said, "My _buir_ taught me. At home."

"Really? Well, that paves the way right into the first tenent of the _Resol'nare_: education."

She looked through the assembled kids and called on a blue-skinned Twi'lek child. "You. Why do you think Mandalorians find educationg younglings so important?"

The young Twi'lek kid blinked his bright blue eyes and stammered, "I-is it because we learn to fight?"

Janada smiled encouragingly and said, "That's part of it. What else?"

"U-um... is it because we learn about our history?"

"Ah, but you don't learn just about _Mando'ad_ history, do you? You also learn about _aruetii_ history. So if we don't even focus solely on Mandalorian teachings, why is it so important?"

When no one answered, Vhetin stepped forward. "Education is important because you need to know more about your galaxy before you step out into it. When you grow up, some of you may decide to be bounty hunters like me-"

Excited whispers ran through the crowd and the children stared at Vhetin's angular black-gray battle armor in awe. Vhetin had left behind all his weapons before attending the class, since teaching six-year-olds wasn't exactly a task needing the use of a lightsaber, but he was stil an imposing figure.

"-or," he continued, "become loyal mercenaries with the Mandalorian Protectors like Janada. Even if you stay on Mandalore and become a simple farmer, you need to know about the galaxy."

He noded to the yellow-armored teacher, who pressed a button on the side of an antique-looking holoprojector. The projector sputtered before displaying a holographic map of the galaxy that stretched from one end of the room to the other. The kids gasped as one, staring in wonder as holographic stars floated lazily past their eyes.

"Our universe is huge," he said, stepping into the hologram and watching as stars floated through his field of vision. "Filled with wonders we can't begin to imagine. But there's also many things in our galaxy that aren't so benign, and the job of your childhood education is to teach you how to survive in such a world."

Janada took over again. "So... who here has parents or relatives who teach them outside of school?"

Almost all of the hands in the room shot up immediately. She nodded in approval. "That shows you how important we _Mando'ade_ find the education of the next generation. Our future as a people depends on you _ade_, so you'd better know what you're doing."

"But why do we have to stay in school for so long?" one kid asked. "And why does it have to be so _boring_?"

"One day you may be out on the battlefield," Vhetin said, folding his arms across his chest, "fighting on a world you've never heard of except during your studies. Boring or not, any information you can learn is information that you can use in the future to gain the upper hand in a situation."

"There's an ancient Mandalorian saying," Janada said with a nod. "_Me'dinuir kar'tayl, me'dinuir cuyanir_. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

A human girl toward the front of the class frowned thoughtfully, then said, "That means _shared knowledge, shared survival_."

"Exactly," Janada said, kneeling in front of the girl. "It's a saying we like to use in the Protectors. Want to know why?"

The girl nodded with wide eyes.

"It's because when you don't know anything about what's going on, your chances of making it through the deployment are very slim. The more you know, the better your chances of survival."

She glanced at Vhetin, who nodded in agreement. She stood and said, "So that's education. What comes next?"

The children all looked between each other, then back to Vhetin and Janada with questioning gazes. Janada glanced at Vhetin with a grin, then said, "It happens to be a subject my _vod_ and I find very important."

Vhetin strode forward and folded his gauntleted arms across his chest, serving as a living example for what they were going to teach next.

"Armor," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: _Beskar'gam_

"Armor," Vhetin said, gesturing to his own black-gray suit, "is one of the most recognizable attributes of our civilization. When an _aruetii_ is asked to name something Mandalorian, they probably won't start listing our cultural achievements or greatest leaders. They'll say _oh, those are the guys with the armor_."

"Mandalorians are among the greatest armorsmiths in the galaxy," Janada said. She gestured to the yellow-armored teacher, who powered up a holoprojector. With a flash of light, the projector began displaying some of the most recognizable Mandalorians in history: Mandalore the Ultimate, Mandalore the Preserver, and Mandalore the Vindicated. Each wore significantly unique suits of armor, though the relationship between them was obvious.

Janada gestured for the teacher to pause the hologram on the most modern example of Mandalorian armorcraft. The children watched in fascination as a life-sized hologram of a green and red Mandalorian slowly rotated before their eyes.

"Who can tell me who this is?" Janada asked.

"Fett!"

"Boba Fett!"

"_Shabuir_!"

Janada threw her head back and laughed at the last answer, while the teacher sternly said, "Briika! Watch your language!"

"But that's what my daddy calls him!" the young girl protested.

"It's all right," Vhetin said with a slight smile of his own. "I'm sure we've all heard worse."

He stepped to the front of the class and said, "The point is that our armor defines who we are. It allows simultaneous individuality and unity with our brothers and sisters. It protects us on the battlefield, showing our enemies that we aren't afraid of combat. And most importantly, it proudly displays our place as warriors among the galaxy's inhabitants."

He knelt in front of a thin human boy and gestured to his own faceplate. "Look into this visor. Can you see my face?"

The kid shook his head.

"Does this faceplate display any emotion at all? Any signs of _chaab_, of fear?"

Another shake of the head.

"And that's exactly why it's so important," Vhetin said, standing to his full height again. "Our armor transforms us into faceless warriors. Even the most fearful Mandalorian looks powerful and invincible when wearing full battle armor."

"Our enemies think that displaying their faces makes them look less like machines," Janada added, "and more like living beings. But we pride ourselves in showing nothing of our true feelings to the enemy. It proves to them that we can't be intimidated, that we won't back down for any reason."

A tentative hand went up. Vhetin looked to the child, a Weequay boy, and nodded for him to speak. The kid hesitated before saying, "But doesn't the helmet just hide what we're scared of? Putting a bucket over your head doesn't make you any braver."

Janada glanced at Vhetin, who in turn looked at the child and nodded in approval. "That's a very good observation, youngling."

He turned his helmeted gaze to the class at large. "No, wearing Mandalorian armor doesn't instantly make you a war hero. It won't turn you into the greatest soldier who ever lived. Every Mandalorian feels fear like anyone else. And we're not too proud to admit it."

He turned to the Weequay child and said, "But can you honestly say that if you were facing me on the opposite side of a battle, you'd be able to look at my helmet and comfort yourself with the knowledge that I'm just as scared as you are? Or would you just see an armored warrior who shows no fear, no anger, no emotion besides a desire to succeed?"

The kid stared at him, then shook his head. Vhetin stared at him, then said, "Our armor doesn't make us impervious to fear. But it sure makes it look like that to our enemies."

"And there's more to our armor than just the way it looks to _aruetiise_," Janada pitched in. "It also protects us in battle. It shields us from harm, even against some of the most powerful of weapons."

Vhetin rapped his knuckles on his black-painted chest plate. "This armor is created from one of the most durable metals in the galaxy. It's saved my life more times than I can even begin to count."

"It looks like any other metal," one child said.

"Doesn't it?" Vhetin said with a chuckle. He stepped up to the youngling and pointed to a round chip in the paint on his stomach plate. "See this scar here? That was from a sniper rifle laser round. The particular rifle is used to hunt Rancor, but it barely slowed me down."

He pointed to a collection of scars on the right side of his helmet. "The paint was melted off my _buy'ce_ here when a gangster threw a beaker of highly-concentrated acid at my face. It would have melted my skull away in seconds, but it did little more than warp the paint."

Finally he pointed to a long, thin scar across his chest plates. "And do you see this? This was caused by a lightsaber."

Hushed gasps ran through the room. One kid stared at the paint scar, then said, "But... but _kad'au'e_ can cut through anything!"

"Not _beskar_," Vhetin said. "So I ask you: can you see the benefit of having a suit of armor that can protect you from every weapon known in the universe?"

Every child present nodded emphatically. One kid raised a hand and said, "So when do we get our armor?"

Janada smiled. "You'll get it soon enough. _Ad'ike_ usually get their first sets of training armor around age five. Most of you are that age or older."

"You'll keep your lower-grade armor until age thirteen," Vhetin added, "when you finish your training. Then you'll be able to decide on a color sceme for your standard armor and even add your own custom additions."

"Custom additions?" someone echoed.

Janada nodded. "I'm not wearing my _beskar'gam_ today, but I created my suit from scratch. I took designs from traditional Mando armor, but the majority of my armor is unique."

"You're allowed to do that?"

She nodded. "If you're either talented or wealthy enough, sure."

"_Kandosii_," the child murmured.

"Your armor is important," Vhetin said. "It's more than just a shiny suit that'll make you look cool to your friends. Your armor will define who you are."

"Like you?"

Vhetin turned sharply to the speaker and said, "What?"

The boy nodded nervously. "I... I've heard rumors about you. Is it true you never take your helmet off?"

He stared at the boy, wondering whether to reprimand him for asking questions that were none of his business or applaud him for being so well informed. He finally bowed his head slightly and murmured, "Not in public, no."

"Why not?"

He stared at the child and was about to reply when Janada stepped in front of him. "He's shy," she said. "Another bonus of wearing a full-face helmet."

Scattered laughter rippled through the room. Vhetin glanced at Janada, grateful that she had pulled him out of that uncomfortable position, then said, "Well... all that aside, who knows the next tenet of the _Resol'nare_?"

There was silence throughout the room for a few moments. Then a girl said, "Is it... fighting?"

"Close," Janada said. "The next part of the _Resol'nare_ is _aranov. _Self-defense."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: _Aranov_

"I'm pretty sure you'll all know this one," Janada said. "What's the importance of combat in Mandalorian culture?"

"So you can kick the _shebs_ of anyone who looks at you funny!" cried one child, punching the air with a tiny fist.

Vhetin smiled. "If you think it's fitting. But it's a little more important than that."

"Since the dawn of time," he said, "Mandalorians have been warriors. But what many don't know is that our culture springs from the traditions of an unbelievably ancient race."

The class teacher displayed a new hologram now, this one of a muscular humanoid alien with pale greenish-gray skin, a knobby, diamond-shaped head, and glowing yellow eyes. It was wearing segmented battle armor that was unmistakably Mandalorian and carried a heavy sword in one hand.

"The Taung," Janada said, staring at the hologram. "They were once the rulers of the entire galaxy. Then an army of humans rose up and beat them away from their home. During this fight, a single warrior was elevated to a leadership position among the Taung. His name was Mandalore."

"Mandalore and his Taung wandered across the galaxy in search of a new home," Vhetin explained. "Along the way, they picked up human, Twi'lek, and Weequay followers who adopted the Taung's strict way of life. As the years went on, the Taung army grew more and more diverse."

"When did they turn into Mandalorians?" a child asked.

Janada took over now. "In the battles that Mandalore and his army waged as they searched for a new homeworld, the non-Taung soldiers began being known as the Followers of Mandalore. After a time, this was changed to Mandalorians."

"The Taung stressed the importance of strong family bonds and practiced excellence in combat," Vhetin said, "elements of their culture that are still in use today. They began the practice of inter-family, even inter-species adoption to strengthen their society, which was divided into Clans. And to protect themselves in war, they designed advanced suits of battle armor to support their skills as warriors."

"All traditions still in practice to this day," Janada finished.

There was silence throughout the room. Eventually the human girl in the front row raised her hand and asked, "If these Taung were so tough... what happened to them?"

"No one really knows," Vhetin said. "Most believe that over time their numbers simply shrank until they went extinct. We are all that's left of their society."

"But what does this have to do with fighting?" one child asked.

"They were the ones who began our tradition of utilizing the best combat equipment we can get our hands on. They began collecting lethal weapons and armor from all over the galaxy to supplement their combat skills."

A child raised his hand and said, "What about combat, though? Why is it so important?"

"It's a sad fact that modern society has no patience for warrior cultures any more," Vhetin said. "We live in a time where money and lies achieve goals, not honor. It's through combat that we protect the ideals that we live by and set ourselves apart from the corrupt and the cowardly."

The yellow-armored teacher cleared his throat. "Um, isn't that a little opinionated?"

Janada nudged Vhetin in the side with a smile and said, "My _vod'ika_ is a little depressing, but he has a point. We train ourselves to fight, even if we're not soldiers, to protect everything that makes us Mandalorian. Like Cin said earlier, this galaxy is a dangerous place. And if we don't stay vigilant, stay prepared, we won't last."

She pointed out a little boy in the front row. "How would you feel if the Emperor himself decided to make Mandalore his new capital? What if he brought his gigantic army of stormtroopers to Keldabe and forcibly took over?"

The child frowned, imagining this eventuality. "I wouldn't like it at all," he said in a small voice. "He's mean."

"And how do you think the _Mando'ade_ would respond?"

"They would fight back!" a little girl sitting next to the child cried excitedly. "And drive him out!"

"Right. But imagine this: what if we Mandalorians didn't know _how_ to drive him out? What would we do?"

"We... would be taken over," the little boy said slowly, looking upset by the thought. "The Emperor would make us into slaves."

"Exactly," Janada said with an approving nod. "So we train in the ways of combat to protect ourselves from those who would do us harm. To protect our families and our friends."

"You will hear this taken the wrong way," Vhetin said, turning his attention to the class at large. "Almost all _aruetiise_ see us as warmongering barbarians who would kill for a handful of coins. They say we know nothing of loyalty except to our own greed and bloodlust and that we worship war. This isn't true."

"Some of it is," one kid said hesitantly. "Teacher said _Mando'ade_ used to worship war."

"True," Janada said. "But those were in the days of the Old Republic, during the time of Mandalore and the Taungs. Mandalorians worshiped the God of War and trained in order to strengthen him in his fight against the God of _Sharal_, of Inaction and Laziness. But we abandoned that belief system for a more realistic outlook on life."

"And what's that?"

Janada stared at the speaker. "That the _aruetiise_ will never leave us alone. They don't understand our ways, and fear us because of that. And history has proven that fear always leads to hatred and violence. It's a lesson we _Mando'ade_ learned very early on."

"That is why we teach our sons and daughters to fight," Vhetin said. "Why every Mandalorian is trained in the ways of combat, even if they grow up to be a simple farmer. Every Mando needs to be able to defend himself or herself in case someone out there decides to attack them."

"If we're such good fighters," a child asked, "why do we have stormtroopers in the city? Why don't we just attack them and drive them away?"

Janada smiled at the young boy. "That's a matter of politics, and that's another matter entirely."

"All you need to know," Vhetin said to the class, "is that all Mandalorians must learn to fight for what they believe in. This galaxy is full of people who have tried to change our ways, to _civilize_ us. But would you prefer to remain true to Mandalorian law, or become subject to the will of the Emperor?"

"_Mando'ad!_" the children shouted. "_Vode an_! _Kote darasuum!_"

"Then for the rest of your lives, you'll need to defend that belief. To strengthen you convictions through that struggle," Vhetin said. "That is the true strength of a warrior. The stronger his belief, the stronger he fights."

"But what about the _Kyr'tsad_?" one child suddenly asked. There were hushed gasps throughout the room and the child suddenly clapped his tiny hands over his mouth.

Janada's face slowly pulled down in a scowl and she clenched a single fist tightly. "Who said that?"

A single tentative hand, trembling, rose into the air. Janada stared at the young boy, then motioned him to come to the front of the class. Vhetin watched his older sister carefully. The _Kyr'tsad_, the Death Watch, was an extremely touchy subject with her.

The young boy stepped through the ranks of his companions and stood in front of Janada, staring at her fearfully. She stared right back, frowning at him.

"Who told you about the _Kyr'tsad_?" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"M-my _buir'e_," the child stammered. "My d-daddy and mommy."

"And what did they say?"

"T-they said that they're no different than us, and th-that they just want the same things. T-that there are good people with them, b-ut they're just not taught the same way we are. They fight hard... they believe in stuff... does that make them warriors?"

"And what about the fact that they kill innocent people?" Janada inquired. "That they destroy entire cities to get what they want?"

"U-um," the child looked like he was about to burst into frightened tears. Vhetin decided to jump in before things could deteriorate further.

_Interesting change_, he thought quickly. _Usually I'm the one everyone's scared of._

"The _Kyr'tsad_," Vhetin said, raising his voice, "is actually a good example of the difference between a warrior and a fanatic."

He knelt in front of the boy while Janada stood, turning her back to the children and muttering something under her breath. He patted the kid's shoulder reassuringly and said, "You're right. Both warriors and fanatics believe strongly in an ideal or specific teaching. But a warrior fights to _defend_ his beliefs. A fanatic starts fights in an attempt to force his opinions on others. Do you understand the difference?"

The child nodded. "S-so Mandos defend what they think, but _Kyr'tsad_ are just a bunch of bullies?"

"Exactly," Vhetin said. "And that's a line we _Mando'ade_ must walk every day of our lives. It's a question that haunts us from the moment we begin to understand just what we're a part of."

He stood and turned his attention to the rest of the children. "What is the line that must be crossed in order to become a fanatic rather than a warrior? What separates us from them? Members of the _Kyr'tsad_ have mothers, fathers, _vode_, friends... What makes us so different?"

He looked down at the boy standing in front of him. "You're parents were right in their teachings, though maybe a little confusing in the way they taught it. Yes, we believe in the same things: honor, courage, brotherhood. But it's the way we _deal_ with these beliefs that makes us different."

He gestured out the window, where the children could plainly see a line of white-armored stormtroopers marching past on their daily patrol through the city. "Look at those white-jobs. Do our beliefs hurt them? Does what we believe in alter their state of mind?"

"There was that one Imperial who shot himself because he didn't like it here," one girl piped up from the back of the room.

"His outlook on life affected that decision," Vhetin corrected. "Not our teachings. But does our belief in honor and brotherhood negatively affect anyone who doesn't believe the same as we do?"

There was a few moments of silent pondering, then one child slowly ventured, "No?"

"Why not?"

Another long silence. "Because we don't care about them?"

"Very good," Vhetin said, actually impressed. These kids caught on quick, and this was probably one of the most important lessons they would learn today. "We don't care about what they think. We don't care what they think about us. All we care about is our own brothers and sisters, so we don't even bother with the _aruetiise_."

He watched the room, looking at each child individually. "But the _Kyr'tsad_? They care what _aruetiise _think of them. They want to be feared and respected by non-Mandalorians. They want to _rule_ them because they think they're _better_ than foreigners. They want to hurt people who don't believe the way they do. And that doesn't make them warriors."

Janada finally turned and said, "Remember that lesson. There will come a time when all of you will feel the struggle between your love for your _vode_ and your dislike of outsiders. And when that moment comes, remember this teaching. Remember what separates us from... _them_."

She shuddered a little, then forced a smile and said, "All right, that's combat. The next part of our lecture ties in nicely with what we've just been talking about. And that..."

She slung an arm around Vhetin's shoulders, no mean feat since she was almost a whole head shorter than he was. "That is _aliit_. Family."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: _Aliit_

"As you can probably see," Janada said, her arm still around Vhetin's shoulders, "Cin and I aren't blood relatives. I barely stand taller than his shoulder and he doesn't share my good looks."

The comment was met with scattered laughter from the children. Janada smiled as well. "So the next part of our lecture is about the importance of family, blood relatives or no, in our society. Does anyone know about this subject? What constitutes family under our laws?"

Hands shot into the air. Janada nodded to her little brother, who grinned crookedly and said, "Anyone can be family. They can either be born into the family, or you have to be adopted."

"That's right. Anyone in the universe, even _aruetiise_, can be adopted into a Mandalorian family by a simple adoption vow. Who knows what that is?"

"_Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad_," several children said, the words coming out in a rush as if they were trying to see who could say it the fastest.

Janada nodded in approval. "The _gai bal manda_. It's one of the most important vows in Mandalorian culture, and that's saying something. With these words, a Mandalorian adult can adopt anyone to be family."

"Why would that be so important?" Vhetin asked. "Anyone?"

"Because _Mando'ade_ need to stick together?" one child ventured.

"That's exactly it," Janada said with an approving nod. "_Mando'ade_ learned long ago to band together against the dangers of the galaxy during their hunt for a new homeworld. Small families joined together under the command of military leaders, forming small communities within the larger structure of Mandalorian society. These were the first Clans."

"Ooh! Ooh!" a child said. "Can I name the Clans? I know a lot!"

Janada smiled. "Unfortunately, we don't have enough time to name them all, so we'll just focus on the three main families here in Keldabe."

She nodded to the teacher, who projected a swooping green-white clan symbol into the air. Janada gestured to it and said, "This is the insignia for Clan Shysa, led by the _Mand'alor_ himself, Fenn Shysa. They live right here in Keldabe, and have a hand in almost every aspect of Mandalorian political life."

Vhetin snorted and muttered under his breath, "What passes for political life around here."

"As you can see by the Clan symbol, their unofficial colors are green and white." His sister ignored him and motioned for the teacher to project the next symbol. This one was angular and colored a pale gold. It rotated slowly before the children's eyes.

"This," Vhetin said, "is the symbol of the mysterious Clan Skirata, who maintain a bastion somewhere up in the mountains. No one but members of the Clan know of the bastion's location, and many say it's because the Skiratas are hiding Jedi up there."

A chorus of _eew_s and _yucky jetiise_ ran through the room. Vhetin bit back a laugh and continued, "They have their influence over just about everything they can find, mostly regarding financial operations, and they're led by Old Kal Skirata."

"The Storyteller!" children cried. Old Kal was a local favorite among children. He frequently showed up at local playgrounds or schools to retell old war stories from battles both during the Clone Wars and before. This had earned him the affectionate title of _Old Kal the Storyteller_.

At a nod from Janada, the teacher displayed one final symbol. This one seemed to be a mixture of the swooping curves of the Shysa insignia mixed with the angular corners of the Skiratas. This symbol was colored red and black.

"And here we have the insignia of Clan Bralor," Janada said proudly, standing a little straighter. "My family. Clan Bralor is one of the most powerful and respected on all of Mandalore. Since the days of the Old Republic, we Bralors have been warriors, renown for our courage and skill in the heat of battle. We're led by Rav Bralor, one of the Elders."

The children nodded. Rav was a local contractor who specialized in the building of the traditional Mandalorian _vheh'yaim_, or bastion. As a result, she and her small group of construction workers, all Bralors, were well-known around Keldabe.

Other Bralors were recognized faces as well. Parja Bralor, who was also a proud member of Clan Skirata, was a skilled mechanic, and Lenn Bralor was a commander with the Mandalorian Protectors. Janada herself was well-liked around Keldabe and was one of the head technicians at MandalMotors' research-and-development branch.

"It is common, though," Janada continued as her Clan's symbol vanished behind her with a flicker, "for Mandalorians to belong to smaller Clans, or even multiple ones.

"Take my _vod_, for example," she said, slinging an arm around Vhetin's shoulders again. "He has strong ties to the Bralor Clan, being my little brother, but he's technically part of the _much_ smaller Clan Omotao. Due to the sheer size of Clan Bralor, I myself have ties to virtually every other Clan on Mandalore."

"What makes something a Clan?" someone asked.

"Anything from a family of more than two to a family as large as... well, a Clan can be as large as it needs. A Clan is nothing more than a group of people who care about each other and work together toward a common goal."

"And are we all part of Clans?"

Janada shrugged. "Some of you. Most of you, I would guess. But you don't have to be a member of a Clan. Many Mandalorian families operate perfectly well without being part of a larger group. It's not for everyone."

"In addition," Vhetin said, folding his arms, "Clans are used to make political decisions on Mandalore. During times of great trouble, a council is convened, with all the leaders of the Clans gathering together to debate matters of importance. It's rare, but it does happen."

"When was the last time it happened?"

Vhetin thought back. It was before his time on Mandalore, before he had converted. "I believe the last _Ka'ra_ was brought together at the end of the Clone Wars, when Shysa declared that he would accept the title of _Mand'alor_. Since then, there has been no need for a council so the Clan Leaders function merely as the heads of their families."

"I want to be Clan Leader someday!" a child cried. "Leader of Clan Kadiilir!"

"Me too!" another laughed happily. "Chieftan of Clan Ordo!"

Janada laughed and held her hands up for silence. "There'll be time enough for you to become warlords later. For now, who can tell me why the Clans are so important to Mandalorian society?"

"You just said they help run Mandalore."

"Ah, but there's more to it than that."

There was silence throughout the classroom.

"In addition to running Mandalore's politics and economy," Janada explained, "Clans lead Mandalorians into battle should Shysa call them. _Mand'alor _and the Elders organize Supercommando deployments and work as the strategic commanders of the Protectors."

"What makes them so special?"

"The Elders have the most experience in battle of any Mandalorian. The majority of our Elders are veterans from the Clone Wars. Do you think ex-soldiers have the experience necessary to lead in battle?"

The children nodded emphatically.

"And would you take orders from them?"

More nods. Vhetin looked through the small crowd and nodded back. "The Elders are our leaders, or the closest we have to leaders. They're the most respected _Mando'ade_ in our society, and are more than worthy of our esteem. When you grow up, treat them with respect, yeah?"

"Yeah!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: _Mando'a bal Mand'alor_

"Now," Janada said, "what about our language?"

"Our language is one of the most important things about us," a child said. "It's part of who we are."

"Very good," Vhetin said. "_Mando'a_ is another aspect of our culture that sets us apart from others. Very few outside our own know or even want to learn our language. It helps us in combat situations because we can use _Mando'a_ as a code."

"Like much of our society," Janada said, "our language is simple and practical. There's very little time wasted in communication."

"But I thought there were over a hundred words for _stupid_," one child said. A chorus of giggles met his response.

Janada nodded. "There are. Over one hundred words for _stupid_ and _stab_, most of which are interchangeable. Needless to say, we think it's important to get our point across in that regard."

Vhetin looked to the children and said, "How many of you were taught _Mando'a_ as your first language?"

Several tentative hands rose into the air. Other children just looked at each other and said, "We learned _Mando'a_ and Basic at the same time."

"That's good," Vhetin said. "Basic is the most widely-used language in the galaxy. You'll need to know it in order to function in society. But _Mando'a_ will help you function in _Mandalorian_ society. It sets you apart from _aruetiise_ and shows that you are truly _Mando'ad_."

"In addition, _Mando'a _strengthens our bonds as brothers and sisters," Janada said. "Like much of our society, _Mando'a_ is taught only to people who have earned our trust. So if you come across someone who speaks our language, chances are that they're trustworthy."

The children nodded slowly, letting this new information sink in. Vhetin watched them for a few moments, then said, "Okay, moving on. What's the final tenet of the _Resol'nare_?"

"_Mand'alor_!" one child said. "Our leader!"

"Exactly. And who is our leader?"

"Shysa! _Mand'alor _Shysa!"

"That's right," Janada said with a smile and an approving nod. "Fenn Shysa is our leader. Who knows about him?"

Children looked between themselves, then back to Janada expectantly. She slowly settled herself down on a nearby chair and said, "Okay... first thing's first. It's important to know that Shysa and his second-in-command, Tobbi Dala, are both veterans of the Clone Wars. They started out as Keldabe Enforcement Officers, but when Mandalore the Ressurrector re-built the Supercommando Army, they joined up and fought for the Separatists."

"B-but the Seppies were the bad guys!" one child said, frowning.

Janada smiled a bit. "The only reason the Mandalorian economy didn't completely implode during the Wars was because of Separatist money. Just because history has branded a group as the _bad guys _doesn't necessarily mean it's true."

"Really?"

"Really," Janada echoed. "Have you learned about Mandalore the Ultimate?"

"Yeah. He was one of our greatest leaders."

"By _aruetii_ observation, he's known as one of the most evil beings in history."

A collection of gasps ran through the rooms. The children looked horrified. Janada stared at them and shrugged. "Sometimes good and bad are points of view. Sometimes it all depends on who's calling the shots. But now back to Shysa."

Vhetin took over. "_Mand'alor, _Shysa, and the Supercommandos worked as a special black-ops task force for the Confederate military. They were feared and respected until a mysterious Separatist leader ordered them to capture a Republic Senator."

"By the time the Supercommandos realized it was a trap," Janada said, "it was too late. Out of two hundred and twelve Supercommandos, only _Mand'alor_, Shysa, and Dala survived. _Mand'alor_ the Ressurector stepped down after that and Mandalore fell into stagnation."

"After the end of the Clone Wars," Vhetin said, "Shysa reluctantly decided to step up and lead the _Mando'ade_. He rebuilt the Supercommando army and grudgingly allowed the Empire to build a base to the north of Keldabe."

"Bone City!" one child said. "I know that place."

Vhetin nodded and said, "Shysa knew the Imperials would cause problems, but he was smart enough to know that refusing them would only lead to worse times for us. He always operates with the best intentions of the _Mando'ade_ in mind. He may not be our greatest warrior or our most feared leader, but he is without doubt one of our most honest, intelligent, and _best_ Mandalores in a long time."

"So," Janada said, clapping her hands, "with all that in mind, do you think he's worthy of our loyalty?"

"Yes!"

"And why?"

"Because he has _ijaat_," one child said quietly. "He has honor. He wants to help us _Mando'ade_. And it's important for leaders to be honorable."

"That's certainly very true," Vhetin said. "Without honor, political leaders grow arrogant and corrupt, like the Emperor."

The yellow-armored teacher cleared his throat and stared at Vhetin pointedly. The meaning of the gesture was clear: Imperials had eyes and ears everywhere, and they didn't like people speaking ill of the Emperor.

"The point is," he continued with a slight nod to the teacher, "that Shysa is a rare kind of leader: one that his followers can trust completely. That alone could place him with our greatest rulers."

"But that trust works both ways," Janada said. "In order for him to be trustworthy, he needs to be able to trust _us_, the _Mando'ade_. A leader is only as powerful as those who support him."

She slowly stood and rested her hands on her hips. "So let me ask you this: when you grow up and take your place among the ranks of _Mando'ade_, will you obey the command of the _Mand'alor?"_

"Yes!" the children cried.

"Would you answer his call if he ordered you to fight?"

"Yes!"

"And why?"

"Because he is _Mand'alor_!" one child said enthusiastically. "It's his job to look out for us. So we look out for him!"

"That's right," Vhetin said. "Shysa may look invincible, but he isn't. So while he does his job protecting and serving us, we must do our part to protect and serve _him_. Do you understand this?"

A collection of nods. Vhetin stared at the children before nodding back. "This is an important lesson. To be a leader is not to be a singular figurehead. In order for someone to _lead_ there must be those who _follow_. It requires cooperation from all parties involved. So, in a way, being a good Mando helps Shysa do his job."

"So," Janada said, clapping her hands, "that's all six parts of the _Resol'nare_. Who can tell us the saying we use to remember it?"

Hands shot up around the room and Janada called on a tiny Zabrak child that had been silent the whole class. In a smooth, clear voice, the child began:

"_Bajur bal beskar'gam, aranov, aliit, Mano'a bal Mand'alor, an vencuyan_

_mhi._"

Janada nodded, looking impressed. "And what does that mean?"

"Education and armor," the kid replied easily, "self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leader, all help us survive."

Janada nodded again and turned her gaze to the class at large. "That's exactly it. The six tenets of the _Resol'nare_, the Six Actions."

Her face slowly grew more serious. "It's important to understand that this is non-negotiable. You _must_ follow these rules in order to be a Mandalorian. If not, you are considered _dar'manda, _a lost soul. It is _critically_ important that you remember this lesson and not only follow it yourself, but teach it to others."

"These simple requirements," Vhetin said, "is all that really sets us apart from _aruetiise_. It's all that makes us special and unique. Without it, we are nothing. So remember the rhyme, remember the rules, and you'll grow up to be honorable Mandalorians."

Janada nodded in agreement before straightening and placing her right fist against the left side of her chest in a traditional Mandalorian salute. She stared at the children, who all slowly mirrored the motion, then nodded seriously and said, "_Vode an_."

"_Vode an_," the children echoed.

Vhetin, who had also saluted, stared out at the children and thought, _these kids are the next generation. They'll grow up and take over when Janada and me and everyone we know are either Elders or dead. It'll be their responsibility to not only understand this lesson, but to pass it on to the generation after _them_._

He hoped he had taught them well. Mandalorians lived a shaky life, always on the brink of economic collapse or invasion. With a culture as militant and aggressive as that of the _Mando'ade_, it wasn't surprising. And long after Vhetin and everyone around him were dead, these children would need to keep _Manda'yaim _strong, to keep their traditions alive and remembered.

The future literally rested on their shoulders.

He stared at the kids from behind his battle helmet, then slowly nodded, half to himself. _They'll manage_, he thought. _If they didn't get this lesson, they'll learn it some other way. It's the nature of the universe._

And when Janada spoke the traditional Mandalorian battle cry, Vhetin decided to say the words along with his sister.

"_Vode an_."


End file.
